Decisions Made for Love
by PossibleIdeasAreLimitless
Summary: Sometimes it takes losing someone to realize what she had...
1. Chapter 1

This was originally entitled _Scars and Souvenirs_, but I felt that the title would better encompass a different oneshot that I've been working on, and so this story is now entitled _Decisions Made for Love_, which actually fits this story better anyway. Hope you enjoy. :)

**Spoilers:** For the 4th Season aired through 4x08.

**Disclaimer:** It is with a heavy heart that I admit to not owning Castle. *sighs*

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><p><strong>Decisions Made for Love<strong>

Deep down she had always wanted him to say it – to finally voice the phrase consisting of three little words that were innocent alone, yet so powerful together.

_I love you_.

Now that he had, she honestly wasn't sure how she felt about it. She didn't know how to deal with what their relationship would become if she didn't also return the phrase back to him. Perhaps she could in the future, but at this very moment, she knew she wouldn't be able to tell him what he wanted to hear.

She just wasn't ready.

So she lied. She told him that she didn't remember. Didn't remember him trying to take the bullet for her, or at least trying to get her out of the way. Didn't remember his warm body over hers, pleading for her to stay with him. Didn't remember the worry, heartache, sorrow, and most of all _love_ that poured from his eyes and threatened to drench her in their emotions. How they held her own eyes captive until she could no longer keep them open, finally succumbing to a darkness that clenched her heart in a vise-like grip similar to the way his three words had – as though securing her heart to him, making it _belong_ to him. And it did, she decided.

Yet she was still unwilling to let him know how much influence he had over her. She couldn't bring herself to admit that his presence in her life meant too much for her to screw it all up. Because that's what would happen. She wasn't ready to begin a serious relationship with him, knowing that she wouldn't be able to give herself over to him fully and completely as he deserved. The conspiracy surrounding her mother's murder took precedence over her mind, body and soul. She needed closure on one obsession before she could begin another. After all, isn't that what love was? A different form of obsession – just not quite as consuming?

She couldn't forget the way he nervously walked in through the door of her hospital room after she was shot, seeming hesitant and unsure. Her pulse quickened, making her chest twinge, and she was glad that she was no longer hooked up to a heart monitor. She couldn't help but smile for him, putting on a brave face even through the conflicting feelings of happiness and pain caused by just the sight of him. The knowledge she now held was too much for her to deal with at the moment, and she just couldn't handle the way his eyes swept over her in a loving caress, relieved to see that she was in fact all right. Instead, she focused on keeping their conversation simple. And then she sent him away.

When his absence those three months was her choice, it was bearable. She could have picked up the phone at any moment to call him, and she somehow knew he would answer, no matter when it was. Because he loved her, and he was always there. But she wouldn't call him. _Couldn't_ call him. She was hiding. From him, from his love. She honestly didn't mean to keep him waiting for so long, but it was just easier to avoid the issue rather than try to assess her feelings. She still didn't really know where she stood.

She couldn't forget the anger and hurt in his eyes when she finally went to see him at his book signing where he seemed so lost and not at all his usual charming self. She doubted any of his fans noticed his reserved demeanor, but _she_ had. And she knew the reason for it, too. She felt guilty for hiding from him for as long as she had without any form of contact, text or otherwise, and knew that the only reason she wasn't still hiding was because she wanted to know how his investigation into her case was progressing. Damn Ryan and Esposito for making her face him. His gaze bore into her heart, searing off a piece of it and making her breath catch. He had every right to be angry, she reasoned, but it still hurt worse than she expected.

She tried to apologize in her own way, letting him know that once her mother's case was finally put to rest, she would be more open to begin something with him. Just not right now. Right now she needed her partner and their sometimes awkward relationship of pretending they didn't care more for each other than they let on – especially in her case.

So they continued under their careful pretense; although, she had to admit that she revealed a bit too much of her emotions concerning him when a certain insurance consultant barged her way into their case at the museum.

She wasn't jealous – she was self-protective. If he loved her as he'd said, why was he so smitten with that long-legged, arrogant blonde? Was he really in love with her, or was it the moment of the situation that brought out the words he didn't actually mean to say? She couldn't decide which one she preferred. The latter scenario was easier to manage. They could both forget it happened (which she was already trying to do) and continue on with their partnership as it was before. However, if his love was true, should he be looking at other women? Not to mention _kissing_ other women?

Okay, so she probably had overreacted a little when she found them lip-locked. But, really, he _could_ have thought of a different way to distract her from the two detectives leaving her hotel room, couldn't he? Or was kissing the only form of diversion his playboy mind was capable of processing?

She thought back to that impromptu kiss they shared last year and her heart spiked erratically, making her body temperature rise as the blood pulsed through her faster. She was surprised at his contact at first, and then realizing the advantage it created, she immediately threw herself into the kiss. What she didn't expect was to enjoy it as much as she had and was pretty sure she heard herself moan into his warm, eager mouth. She really had to try and rein in her emotions after that; after all, she _was_ with someone else at the time.

Which brings her back to the blonde. If he was really in love with her, she would assume that he wouldn't even think about another woman, let alone kiss one. Did he actually enjoy kissing that over-egotistical woman? Or was it really just a ploy like he tried to explain? She had told him once before that she was a 'one and done' kind of girl; if she chose him, would he set aside his old ways and finally settle down with one person? Or would his playboy persona always be a part of him?

When he didn't go out with the woman, letting her walk away without the slightest care, she noticed just how much his actions influenced her feelings. She breathed easier knowing that the blonde was no longer in the picture and even let an easy smile grace her lips as she offered to buy him a burger. Perhaps she was in deeper than she cared to realize.

And she was perfectly fine living in that blissful ignorance . . . for at least a few more cases, anyway.

… … … … …

Then there was the situation at the bank.

She had no training whatsoever in hostage negotiations, and now she was literally forced to reason with the fictitious doctor, since he refused to speak with anyone but her. She supposed he figured that he had more leverage over her, since she seemed to be more invested in the well-being of at least one of his hostages than the actual negotiator would be. Which was obviously true, but he seemed to think he always had the upper-hand and took that misconstrued comprehension as an opportunity to threaten her partner in order to get what he wanted, especially when the bus wasn't going to arrive in the allotted time he'd given.

The sound of that gunshot stopped her heart. She anxiously awaited the answer to her question and was relieved to hear that it was only a warning shot. He was still okay. But only for a moment longer, unless she could convince the bastard into giving her twenty more minutes. To hell with protocol. This guy had no idea who he was dealing with. So she told him exactly what would happen if he made his threat into reality. Lucky for him he had the good sense to listen.

Her partner was safe once again.

Then the sound of an explosion and the force of the blast rocked the vehicle, making her cut out mid-sentence in her conversation to Esposito as her entire body seized up. As if in a dream, she stepped out of the vehicle and turned toward the billowing dust cloud that was once the bank. The bank _he_ was still inside.

She fell into a state of shock. She couldn't take her eyes off of the desecrated building. Every beat of her heart was slow and deliberate, like the steady beating of a drum, thundering through her and filling her ears. Her police vest was on before her mind could register what she was doing and then she was suddenly at the forefront of the recovery squad, flashlight and gun in hand, searching everywhere through the debris. She was vaguely aware of her calling out his name. The desperate, guttural voice that escaped from her mouth didn't sound like her at all. It was filled with too much emotion and anxiety and _need_.

Then she heard his unmistakable voice say her name and her heart gave a tiny leap. But she needed to see him. Her ears could only be playing tricks on her.

When he finally came into view, she could breathe easier – almost having to gulp down the air into her deprived lungs. She rushed into the vault, only barely noticing the rest of the hostages, and kneeled in front of him.

She wanted to throw herself into his arms while her hands roamed every inch of him, making sure he was really all right. But of course, she could not do any such thing. That would take their relationship in an entirely new (and scary) direction that she still wasn't sure she could handle yet. Just seeing him alive was going to have to be enough. For now.

So she cut the ties that bound him and was content with letting the world fall away as she stared into his relieved eyes, only vaguely aware of her hand reaching out to touch his lapel for confirmation that he was actually there, _alive_, and in front of her.

Then all too soon their moment was broken. Or perhaps it was broken at the right time, because she was beginning to feel her hold on his lapel tighten to close the distance between them. She felt the blush rise in her cheeks, ducking her head slightly in embarrassment, and reprimanded herself for losing control over her façade for even a brief moment.

… … … … …

The day at the bank soon fell under the rapidly growing category of things that they didn't talk about, and soon enough, she was facing an empty chair just like two years ago when he had left for the Hamptons that summer. Except this time she wasn't sure if he was ever coming back.

She tried to tell herself that it was better this way. He could now forget about her and move on with his life, finding someone who actually deserved his love, instead of wasting it on someone who was so emotionally constipated that she could barely even shed a single tear when he had finally said that he couldn't do it anymore. She felt as though she always expected him to leave, to rise from his chair and never return. And she felt that she could finally go on living the life she had been before he came barreling in, demolishing walls and spreading chaos into her organized ways. Of course it hurt at first, but she had dealt with his absence before.

Yet if she was truly honest with herself, she would admit that her dear old Captain was right. He was good for her. She felt more carefree when he was around, able to sit back and enjoy the little things in life, rather than keeping her emotions all bottled up in a place deep within. He brought laughter and fun into her somewhat dismal job where even though each case had closure, it always began with an end.

What was that saying, anyway? If you love someone, let him go and see if he will return? She imagined that she had probably exhausted the saying, though. How many times must he come back after her letting him go before she realized that she needed him far more than she ever let on? When was she finally going to listen to the part of her that yearned for him in a way that simple smiles and brief touches couldn't sate?

She _had_ made the excuse before that she couldn't have the kind of relationship she wanted until her mother's case was solved, but wasn't that really just a crutch? An excuse to not let anyone close to her so if she ever did lose him absolutely, she wouldn't ever feel the kind of devastation she fell into after her mother died? Yet wasn't he already so close to her heart that the loss of his presence had that same effect anyway? Didn't her world shatter briefly when that bank exploded? How could she live out her life if she _really_ lost him? Her mother's case was going nowhere. They've had no new leads, no new evidence, not even a sliver of new information. How long did she really expect him to wait?

And then the words of her therapist whispered over her subconscious mind, begging for an answer and yet knowing it was futile.

"_What are you really scared of? That he won't wait for you? Or that he will?"_

She mulled the questions over and had finally decided that she was equally afraid of both. She never wanted him to leave – the thought of him not being in her life anymore always brought a new sharp pain in her once guarded heart. And yet, the knowledge of him loving her deeply enough to wait for her made her begin to slightly hyperventilate. She hadn't ever known love like the kind he showed her every day with just one look. And to think that he could demonstrate just how much more he could love her with just one word of consent from her lips damn near scared the hell out of her.

What was she to do?

So she did nothing.

And he had finally had enough.

The question now was: Could she let go of her stubborn nature and go after him? Or was she forever resolute to live out her life in discontent?

The decision solely rested with her.

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><p>I hope you enjoyed reading my account into the mind of the fabulous Kate Beckett. :)<p> 


	2. Chapter 2

Thanks to everyone who reviewed! You are the reasons why I felt I could continue. Hopefully it doesn't disappoint. :)

_Every decision made for love needs courage to see it through._

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><p><strong>Decisions Made for Love<br>**_Part Two_

Castle had been writing when he heard the soft, hesitant knocking at his front door. He glanced at the clock on his laptop – 11:47 AM. Was it already so close to noon? Since leaving the precinct a few weeks ago, he had submerged himself in his writing, using it as an escape where he had the power to make things happen – make his characters finally act on emotions he knew were coursing through them.

He was almost tempted to ignore the intruder. He _had_ been involved in a rather intense car chase until he was rudely interrupted. His eyes glanced over to the door and then back at his computer screen. Then the knocking sounded again. This time it was a bit more demanding. He sighed as he closed his laptop, giving in to the persistent person on the other side of his door. Whoever it was better hope that their reason was important enough for letting his fictitious culprit get away momentarily in the stolen vehicle.

He stood from his chair in his office and languorously walked the distance to his door. He certainly was not expecting the person on the other side.

"Kat—Detective Beckett," he corrected quickly. "What are you doing here?" He didn't mean to sound bitter, and yet the emotion laced itself within his words anyway. He felt his eyebrows knit together in confusion at his sudden petulance. Yes, he was no longer at the precinct, but it _was_ his decision to leave. And for good reason, too. If he hadn't, he would have put her life and maybe even Esposito's and Ryan's lives at risk. In actuality, he didn't want to leave, but his involvement in Johanna Beckett's case brought with it unwanted attention.

He supposed his irritability could be in lieu of Kate's mask of indifference when he told her he was leaving the precinct and not ever coming back. She just sat there, eyes distant, expression neutral, and told him good luck in whatever he planned to do next. He stood in shock, wondering what he could have done to bring about this impassive Beckett. He'd thought that they were actually growing closer to breaking down that infamous wall she had surrounding her heart, but the Beckett before him suggested that the holes had been patched with cement and then reinforced with platinum steel.

He didn't understand. Could she have found out about his taking part with leading her away from her mother's case? It was for her safety, but he knew she wouldn't see it as such. To her it was a form of betrayal so deep that he knew their relationship wouldn't stand a chance if she ever discovered the truth. And he knew he would have to tell her eventually. His heart felt as heavy as lead just thinking about it.

But that couldn't be the reason for her detached behavior. He imagined an all out brawl complete with piercing insults and explosive yelling when she finally discovered what he was doing. She was acting as though she didn't have a care in the world regarding him, and that hurt even worse than her shouting.

So he left without another word and without looking back.

And now here she was outside his apartment door, looking more vulnerable than he had ever seen her.

"I need you," she said in a rush, catching him completely off guard. He stood frozen with an expression twisted in confusion and astonishment.

"What?" he finally said. She dropped her head, watching her hands fiddle with the ends of her scarf.

"Weeks ago, at the bank, you told me to tell you that I needed you. I know it was under different context, but I'm telling you now."

"You need me for a case?" he asked, still not grasping what exactly she was telling him.

She shook her head and looked up, her eyes pleading for him to understand. He swallowed hard as his heart tried to beat out of his chest and opened his door wider to invite her in. She stepped through almost hesitantly and then began to babble.

"You know, it was easier when _I_ was in control," she said vaguely, but Castle didn't interrupt. He stood silently by one end of the couch as she ranted near the other end. "Months went by, and I was okay for the most part, avoiding the issue while trying to sort out my own… Then the boys forced me to face what I'd been running from, and it was more difficult than I thought it would be. I realized that I couldn't push past my fears by myself. I finally had to seek help… My th-therapist," she said with difficulty, as though admitting she was going to a professional for her problems would make her seem weak. But Castle knew the amount of strength it took to seek help, and he admired her all the more for it. Her eyes scrutinized him, challenging him to give away any sort of demeaning emotions, but he was careful to keep his expression unchanged while she stared so as not to have her misinterpret anything.

Satisfied, she continued, "Dr. Burke has helped me to see past my limitations to understand the person I want to be, to not be defined by what happened in the past… My mother's death is still a big part of my life, but it doesn't have to control it. I realize now that there are ways to let go without giving up on her memory."

She looked up at him with those beautiful, dark hazel eyes, still so vulnerable and full of anxiety. This was Kate Beckett: Exposed, and Castle had no idea how to react. His muddled brain was still trying to sort out why she was speaking to him in a way that hinted desperation. He didn't want to say anything for fear that she would lose her nerve. This was a side of her that he rarely, if ever, was privileged to witness.

"It was just so much easier – _everything_ was so much easier before you…" She trailed off, but he could tell that she wanted to say something else; she just wasn't sure if she could… or should.

"Before I came along and upended your ways of doing things?" he offered.

"No. Well, yeah, but like I've told you before, I was growing used to that. I meant… something else."

"What exactly are you trying to say, Kate?" he asked, though he knew. He just wanted her to finally voice it.

She took a deep breath, as though preparing herself for her confession and for his reaction.

"I lied, Castle," she said, not able to look him in the eyes. "I remember… I remember what you said to me that day at Roy's funeral, before I… lost consciousness."

"I know," he stated. Her gaze shot up to meet his.

"How could you possibly—?"

"Well – I've suspected." She looked at him in surprise, and he had to admit that he surprised himself with how calm his voice sounded. She had lied to him. For how long, he still wasn't sure. She probably had never even lost the memory in the first place. But he knew that his confession would stir up feelings that she probably couldn't deal with at the time, and honestly, he just wanted her to know how he felt before he lost her forever.

"Why didn't you say anything?" she asked.

"I wasn't a hundred percent positive, and to bring up the subject when you clearly were trying to forget it wouldn't have been very wise on my part. So I decided to listen to some great advice and not push you. I had to believe that you would tell me when you were ready."

He tried not to scoff at his own B.S. If he was truly being honest with himself, he knew that if he brought it up again with how fragile she was acting lately, it would draw her further away from him. He wouldn't be able to stand that. So he waited, hoping it wouldn't take too long for her to breach it first.

He watched her struggle with something before she finally asked in a voice barely above a whisper, "Did you mean what you said? Or was it just a 'spur of the moment' type confession?"

He almost couldn't believe she had asked the question. Did she not realize everything he did for her was because of his love?

He stepped toward her and it was then that he realized how much shorter she was than usual. He glanced down at her feet, noticing for the first time that she wasn't wearing heels. Instead, tennis shoes had taken their place. He almost reveled in the fact that she had to tilt her head back to look up at him, which made those tantalizing lips of hers more accessible. All he had to do was lean down just a few more inches…

"Do you need proof?" he heard himself asking, not being able to take his eyes off of those perfect lips.

… … … … …

Kate's heart thrashed against her ribcage. He was so close. Too close. She could barely remember her question and the reason behind her asking. He finally took his gaze away from her lips to find her eyes, and it took all of her will not to give in to the hope and longing she found there. Was she really ready for this new shift in their relationship?

She gave her head an imperceptive shake to rid her mind of that thought. It was kind of too late now to be asking that question. She already more or less confessed her own feelings to him earlier. She just wanted to know one last thing for sure before plunging into strange and foreign territory.

"What about Serena?" she asked, stepping back from him.

Confusion flashed within his expression. "Serena?"

"Yes," she stated simply.

"Why would you feel the need to mention her?" he asked.

"You claimed that you loved me, and yet four months later you were making out with another woman. You seemed completely infatuated."

"Intrigued," he corrected, "not infatuated. And that kiss was supposed to be a distraction while you and Espo _snuck_ out of her apartment without her noticing, but _you_ ruined that plan and made the kiss utterly inconsequential. It was a nice kiss, but it didn't mean anything."

"Is that your reaction for every diversion involving a woman, to kiss her?"

"We were supposed to be on a date!" he claimed, exasperated. "A date _you_ set up, by the way. In what other reasonable way was I to divert her attention from the two detectives coming out of her hotel room?"

"You could have told her that you left something at the restaurant and needed to go back for it," Kate suggested, but she knew even that wasn't a very good excuse.

"And how was I supposed to have her follow me there when we were so close to her room?"

It was Kate's turn to be flustered. "You could have… I… I don't know," she said, defeated.

A ghost of a smile pulled at the corner of his lips. "I knew you were jealous."

"I was not jealous," she hissed. "I was protecting myself."

"Protecting yourself? From what?"

"From you! From feeling anything toward you when you were so clearly smitten with that woman."

"She didn't mean anything to me, Kate! I thought she would make an interesting character for one of my books. That's it. I didn't even want to go on the date from the beginning, but _you_ thought it would be the perfect opportunity to search her room while she was _dis-tract-ed_," he said. "I _did_ text you ahead of time in warning that we were on our way up, but you apparently didn't pay any attention to it."

"Yes, why were you _both_ returning to her room?" she asked.

"I was being a gentleman and making sure she got to her room safely, not to mention making sure you and Espo were clear. I had no intention of following her inside. I promise," he said, his eyes conveying his sincerity.

She tightened her lips and scrunched her brow. She couldn't help but believe him, but she wasn't going to drop the subject just yet. "You still didn't answer my question from earlier," was all she could say. He raised an eyebrow and she clarified, "About only thinking to kiss a woman for a diversion."

She knew she was being ridiculous bringing up their own impromptu kiss. It was also somewhat petty, but she wanted to know if it held more significance than the one shared with the cocky ex-thief.

"You're speaking of our kiss now, aren't you?" he asked gently, taking a step toward her.

"What were you thinking?" Her voice was soft, barely above a whisper. She watched his eyes darken at the memory, and her pulse quickened.

"I was thinking that your automatic reaction of shooting him might bring out more guys, or even make the ones inside panic and kill Ryan and Espo before we could get to them.

"I was thinking that our dance around each other had gone on long enough, and maybe, just maybe, an unexpected kiss was all it would take to jumpstart a relationship with you.

"And I was thinking that I had wanted to know ever since I met you what it would feel like to kiss you."

She could feel the heat of a blush travel up her neck and berated her body for its reaction.

He hesitated as though he was going to add something else but thought better of it – and then he seemed to decide to say it anyway. "Honestly, if you wouldn't have broken the kiss, and Ryan and Espo weren't in any danger, I would've loved to have kept your mouth captive for the rest of the night and for every night thereafter."

She gazed at him, suddenly finding it difficult to breathe.

"But after the boys were safe, you refused to even acknowledge the kiss."

That's right. She didn't. Why didn't she again? Then she remembered, "I was with Josh at the time, Castle. I'm not the type of girl who cheats on my boyfriend. I saw the kiss for its advantages at the moment and just went with it."

"And yet you're bringing it up now. Tell me, detective, did it mean anything to you, or was it just the same as with my kiss with Serena?"

Crap. Now it was her turn to tell him the truth about the kiss. Her throat felt dry and scratchy. She began to feel herself revert back to her old ways and pretend like it didn't really mean anything more than a distraction, but then Dr. Burke's teachings sidled in between those thoughts and the real Kate's, forcing her to open herself up to the man she knew had the potential to become her 'one and done'.

"At first I was surprised you would have even attempted to kiss me, let alone actually succeed," she began in a small voice. She watched as a hint of a smile grew upon his lips. "After the surprise wore off, and I saw the guy still reaching for his gun, I decided that your idea was worth a shot. I didn't expect it to have an effect on me, not as much as it had, anyway."

"And how much of an effect did it have, exactly?" he asked, eager.

"Enough to consider whether being with Josh was what I really wanted."

Castle's eyes gleamed as his smile grew. She was no longer with Josh, or anyone else for that matter, so he must know now that she had chosen him. She couldn't help but return the smile, if only briefly.

"But at the time, I didn't want to lose you. I was still too broken, still too guarded to let anyone in, and I needed you. As my partner, as someone who would always have my back. I knew I would just mess everything up if we started something I wasn't ready for. So I stayed with Josh.

"And then… and then my shooting at Roy's funeral happened. And everything changed."

"Everything was easier," he mumbled to himself. His voice held what sounded like sudden comprehension, as though he had just realized something. He looked at her. "Everything was easier before I told you how I felt, right? That's what you were going to say earlier."

She swallowed and nodded her head slowly, not sure what his reaction would be.

"Does that scare you, having things a bit more… complicated?" he asked hesitantly.

"Yes, but…" She took a deep breath and let it out slowly. "You are the reason I wanted to push past my fears. I don't want you to leave. We're partners, remember?"

He smiled then, that smile that always brought a glimmer to his eyes and made her stomach flutter.

"Yes," he said. "Always."

He brought his arms around her, bringing her closer to him. She felt herself grow tense at his sudden intimacy, yet he didn't let go. He just held her, never tightening the hug, nor loosening his hold. Then, after the briefest of seconds, she began to relax into his strong embrace. Her arms reached around him seemingly upon their own accord, pulling him to her tighter as she grasped fistfuls of his shirt. Without the added height of her heels, she noticed that her head fit perfectly in the scoop of his neck and so rested her forehead against his collarbone. She breathed in his scent that was so decidedly Castle and smiled. She could get used to this.

She felt him lower his head next to hers, his breath so close to her ear made her body tingle and goosebumps arise.

"I'm not going anywhere, Kate," he said into her hair. "My love for you is much deeper than any physical attraction. I was serious in L.A. when I told you that you were a mystery I didn't think I would ever be able to solve, and I am willing to spend the rest of my life trying to decipher each clue you are willing to give me."

Her chest seemed to swell as she realized the meaning behind his words, but all she could think of was his empty chair back at the precinct. "Then why did you leave?" she asked into his shirt, unwilling to let him go just yet. "Why did I have to come seek you out?"

… … … … …

Castle's heart began to beat erratically, and he was sure that she would notice with her head resting on his chest. Since they were getting things out in the open, he debated on whether he should tell her about the phone calls he received regarding her mother's murder, not to mention his own private investigation and his main reason for drawing her away from the case – the real reason why he left the precinct.

Then he imagined the hurt and anger upon her face and couldn't bear the thought of her leaving him now that she had finally given to him a part of her that he was sure no other man had ever come close to possessing.

And yet, he couldn't bring himself to begin their relationship with lies. She had confessed to him, albeit several long months after she should have, but she did tell him nonetheless. As much as he would love to keep her in his arms forever, she deserved to know everything he knew. It was her mother's case, after all.

Castle reluctantly pulled her from his grasp. His heart felt like a dead weight in his chest, sinking slowly down into his stomach. He looked into her eyes, which only a moment ago held a glistening happiness, until she saw his somber expression. She grew serious quickly and gave him a questioning look.

"Kate," he said, his voice thick. "There's something you need to know."

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><p>So I'm content with just leaving it how it is and letting you choose how the next scene should play out. I honestly only thought this far and couldn't even begin to fathom what will happen when Kate finds out what Castle has been up to, not to mention that I am in no way smart enough to conduct a decent way to progress Johanna Beckett's case. I will leave that up to Marlowe and his talented writing staff.<p>

I also kind of felt as though Kate was slightly OOC in some areas, or perhaps even most of them. I know we've caught glances of her being vulnerable before, but I still have a hard time seeing her that way and an even more difficult time trying to believably write her as such. I don't really have much of an imagination of what _will_ happen in the series. I'm more content with just watching what _does_ happen and then writing what I interpret their emotions to be as the characters are acting them. I apologize for any misconstrued notions given throughout my story and hope you enjoyed it anyway. :)


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